CAYMAN SUMMER (Taken by Storm) (18 page)

“Yes. Every day.”

That and more. She works out until she hurts. I think she wants to be buff like Alex. I got to change her mind on that one.

The doctor finally gets to her hand. He rolls a wheelie table in front of her and takes an electric saw with a round whirling blade out of a drawer. “Rest your hand here.” He puts on safety glasses and revs up the saw. “Hold still.”

The blade whirrs and kicks up a billow of white dust. It’s hot in the room. Airless. A vision of him cutting her hand right off invades. I breathe faster and faster like a newbie diver in panic mode. Choke on the dust.

Leesie stops the doctor with a touch on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

I wipe my face. “Fine.”

“Good—look.” She holds her hand up so I can see her cast hangs on by a mere half inch width.

The doctor puts down the saw and opens a drawer. “I’ll use my scissors on that. Don’t want to slice open your hand.”

He didn’t need to say that.

I take a deep breath, move closer for a better view. Snip. Snip. He pulls the cast off and her hand is free.

Pale, clammy, greenish contrasted with her tan fingertips. She turns it over. Four faint scars curved to fit my fingernails emerge and memory blurs my vision. She’s holding my hand for the very first time, talking about angels, and I hang on to her so tight I hurt her.

She sees them, too. Remembers? I hope so. I need her to remember the power and conviction she bathed my wounds with that night. I wish I could bathe hers like that now.

Not my element.

Saltwater, though. Healed me up fine in the end. It should work for her, too. A good place to start.

Tomorrow.

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM # 89, SALTWATER WONDER

Water closes over my head.
My pulse rate triples.
Michael, his face inches
from mine as we sink
together, motions slow,
take it slow, slow, slow.

I swallow, and my ears pop
like we practiced yesterday
in the pool, swallow again.
No pinching my nose and blowing
like I learned with him back
in SLC in that hotel pool—
he’s worried about pressure
on my weakened nose.

To avoid strain on my newly
healed collarbone, Michael
geared me up in the water,
kicking tanks and weights to where
I floated and gently wrapped me
in the complex web of equipment.

He motions, Okay?
I nod—remember to return
his signal, swallow again
and bump my leg into his
on purpose. Private lesson today.
No other students.
Just him and me, coral
and aqua water. Stray fish
staring at me like I’m an alien.

Alex with her students stir
up the sand on the other side
of the boat.

I’m in a new world with
Michael—his world
where my heart races
and I want to kick free
and swim for blue skies,
his world where bubbles
he exhales break around me,
calm my soul enough to pass off
skills kneeling in the sand,
wetsuited knees touching,
gauges checked, masks cleared,
air supply recovered, buddy
breathing.

Buoyancy balanced, he
leads me on a swim around
that replaces final fearful
wisps with wonder.
Is this really just under the surface?
Or did he transport me?
Am I on the moon? Mars? Venus?
A purplish world where
large flat fans screen the water
in lazy rhythm, fantastical formations
top every coral head.
A kingdom of tiny bright subjects
whiz in and out of their intricate
castles. Yellow. Blue. Black. Orange.
Vivid in tubular rays descending
from our own bright sun,
revealing their hidden playground.

Too soon we’re on the surface.
Too soon Michael unsnaps my B.C.
and unsnugs the Velcro cumberbun.
Too soon he boosts me back into the boat.
Too soon he reads the delight
in my face.

“Can we go again?”
I’m dying for another taste
of this mystery he loves so much.

He crushes me close, wipes a tear
from his eye before it can fall.
“Sure, babe.” He whispers,
“I love you.”
I blink, sniff, and manage to say,
“I know,” before his lips
take my breath away.

Chapter 19

MERMAID?

LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 06/12 9:18 PM

Kimbo69 says:
Where have you been?

Leesie327 says:
Diving every day.

Kimbo69 says:
Doesn’t it scare you?

Leesie327 says:
Not anymore. I love it. I love it. I love it.

Kimbo69 says:
You love it?

Leesie327 says:
I’m totally certified now and I love it.

Kimbo69 says:
Are you sure you didn’t mean certifiable?

Leesie327 says:
I love it.

Kimbo69 says:
What’s the appeal?

Leesie327 says:
Michael in a wetsuit.

Kimbo69 says:
Doesn’t impress me. I’m into skin myself.

Leesie327 says:
Work with me, my friend. I’m doing the best with what he’ll give me. I especially love it in between dives when he peels his wetsuit half-off and lets it hang around his waist.

Kimbo69 says:
Hmmm…the best of both worlds.

Leesie327 says:
Sigh.

Kimbo69 says:
You go diving every day just to see him in a wetsuit? That sounds like too much work. Doesn’t he walk around the apartment in boxers—a swimsuit at least?

Leesie327 says:
Rarely shirtless.

Kimbo69 says:
Too much temptation?

Leesie327 says:
The rest of the guys do.

Kimbo69 says:
Massive skin alert. Can I come visit?

Leesie327 says:
It makes me nervous.

Kimbo69 says:
Overheated.

Leesie327 says:
Maybe that’s it. Gabriel’s the worst.

Kimbo69 says:
I thought they were all hot.

Leesie327 says:
He’s the only Speedo king.

Kimbo69 says:
Pictures, girl. I need pictures.

Leesie327 says:
Mark wouldn’t care?

Kimbo69 says:
You should see what he looks at. No, you shouldn’t. It’s gross.

Leesie327 says:
Well….my new phone does have a camera.

Kimbo69 says:
Yes! Promise?

Leesie327 says:
It shouldn’t be hard. He’s always in our room.

Kimbo69 says:
Lucky Alex.

Leesie327 says:
When they want to be alone, Alex shuts the door, and Michael and I get out of the apartment.

Kimbo69 says:
Michael’s a prude?

Leesie327 says:
He doesn’t want me around their influence. But Gabriel barges in every morning to wake Alex up. I’ve got zero privacy.

Kimbo69 says:
Privacy is highly over-rated. You’ll get used to not having it.

Leesie327 says:
I can’t say anything to Alex. She’s so happy. And Gabriel’s too romantic for words. Yesterday, he brought her breakfast in bed and called her “mi cielo.”

Kimbo69 says:
What does that mean?

Leesie327 says:
That’s what Alex said. And he murmured in that sexy accent of his, “There is no English for this. It means you are my heaven. Being with you is like being in heaven.”

Kimbo69 says:
You should write that down.

Leesie327 says:
I just did.

Kimbo69 says:
How did Alex react to that?

Leesie327 says:
I had to leave the room quickly.

Kimbo69 says:
What about Seth and Dani?

Leesie327 says:
Don’t see them much. They have to work all the time. And when they get off, they go into town to drink.

Kimbo69 says:
I thought he drank because she left him.

Leesie327 says:
Me, too. Now they hit the bars because she’s back.

Kimbo69 says:
Maybe he just drinks.

Leesie327 says:
You’re so perceptive.

Kimbo69 says:
What’s your plan—now that you’re no longer handicapped.

Leesie327 says:
Keep diving.

Kimbo69 says:
That’s it?

Leesie327 says:
That’s about all I can handle. Dive with Michael. Every day.

Kimbo69 says:
You can’t do that forever.

Leesie327 says:
I can try.

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM # 90, ICE

Michael’s on the balcony,
checking email before
he has to head out.
I fiddle with French toast,
pout, not going with—
boat’s full.

We’re out of eggs now,
bread, butter and bacon.
A walk to the store.
An hour on the beach
to work my tan
and pump Alex’s free weights.

“Leese, there’s news.”
His voice finds me,
draws me to him.
“From who?”
He closes up his laptop.
“Stan the Man.”
His wizardly lawyer—
mine now, too.

Fright grips me
like all of the sudden
I grip Michael’s arm.
My stomach turns upside
down and a cold chill
in my veins makes
all my healed hurts
pulse together with pain.
“What?” Is all I can mumble.
Manslaughter? Vehicular homicide?
Reckless endangerment?
Will there be a trial or will
I just go to prison?

Michael trades me for the computer
on his lap, barricades
me in his arms. I take cover
in his the soft cotton T-shirt
hiding his chest.
He strokes my head. “Good news.”
“Do the police want me back?”
“No.”
“Stan can deal with the trial
without my presence?”
“What trial?”
“Tell me the charges.”
“Driving too fast for conditions.
He already paid the fine.”
I close my eyes tight, and my hands
ball up with bits of Michael’s shirt caught in them.
“You’re lying. Tell me the truth.”

He kisses the scars on the back
of my left hand where his ring shines
“There was ice on the road.”
I sit up and concentrate on his deep gray eyes.
“Ice?”
He presses his face alongside mine.
“The police say that’s why you crashed.”

“Ice?” I pull away from his tenderness.
My face knits into confusion.
“We were fighting—
like I told you—an awful fight—the worst.
I lost control. That’s why
we crashed. It’s my fault.
I killed him.
I murdered my brother.
Not the ice.”
Michael’s hands cup my face.
“I believe you, babe. I do.
But ice was
on the highway, too.”

My eyes blink, and I shiver.
“All hail—the Ice Queen cometh.”
Bitterness drips from my lips.
“Hush, babe. Don’t.”
He presses my head back down
to his chest. Holds me tight.
“Let’s call your dad tonight.
It’s time to mend more than
broken bones.”
“No.” I curl close to him,
trying to steal the warmth
from his body. Ice. I shiver.
He squeezes me. “Think about it.”
“No.”
He cradles me, kisses me,
leaves me curled
tight in a fetal prison
on the chaise lounge
contemplating the possibilities
of ice.

Chapter 20

SLIP-UP

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME #10

Dive Buddy:
Leesie
Date:
06/17
Dive #:
--
Location:
Grand Cayman
Dive Site:
kitchenette
Weather Condition:
steamy
Water Condition:
steamy
Depth:
an inch too far
Visibility:
clearing
Water Temp:
hot
Bottom Time:
two minutes too long
Comments:

I’m lying on my cot in the living room trying not to wake up. I dozed again after everyone left for the 8 AM dive. I’m teaching at ten. Get to sleep in.

The scent and sizzle of bacon Leesie’s frying up in the kitchen seems worth opening my eyes for.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” She sounds upbeat this morning. Maybe I can get her talking about the accident again. She needs to believe Stan and the police. Ice on the road. Not merely a mind-lessfight. There’s something she’s left out of her story that I got to know.